On Commitment… And Being a Polygamist.

But because I’ve made a commitment I have to show up every day. Whether all is plain sailing. Or rather shitty.

And as a child of divorce commitment is the thing in the world that most scares me. Because I know there are no guarantees. No happily ever after.

Sometimes I think I should be committed… in the other sort of way.

But I keep going, because sometimes in burst of great joy or other times disguised as major bumps in the road, it keeps me becoming more and more myself. Shining light on shadows and busting through blocks I didn’t even know I had. And most of the time, I have a companion, to experience life more fully with.

My commitment requires me to return home. Again and again. When I’d prefer to run a million miles away.

Home… as defined by the rather wonderful Liz Gilbert (we’re like that, you know, she’s Liz to me: TOTAL writer crush!)

Home is anything that you love more than you love yourself: it might be your writing, or family or creativity or service… it is something that you can dedicate your energies to with such singular devotion that the eventual outcome is entirely inconsequential. The remedy for self restoration is that you have got to find your way back home again as quickly and smoothly as you can. To me that home is writing.

This is the commitment to which I refer… I am wedded to my work. To my writing. To turning up again and again – in shame and despair, despondency and doubt, as well as joy, excitement and exhilaration. I turned up flawed, knowing that the person I was entering this relationship, will not be the person who emerges at the other side. That I will be changed by it. That my soul will be carved by it.

Even before my writing had fully taken its form, my then boyfriend, now husband, knew that the whole of my soul was wedded to it.

He knew he was marrying someone completely committed.

All my friends and family. Even my children know that I have a soul commitment to my work. It is non-negotiable. Even when it’s all shit, I’ve pledged myself to it, till death us do part.

Just as I did years later with my husband.

So that makes me a polygamist. And I’m just fine with that. Perhaps as a Gemini I have two souls any way! But body and soul are committed twice over: to opening to ever deeper parts of myself, taking risks, extending what I consider my boundaries and shining light on what I have hidden.

Neither is easy. Neither would I swap for all the world.

When people ask me what they should do… in love or creativity… my answer is always the same – find something or someone that makes your soul sing, and commit, wholeheartedly. Half the skill is in the choosing – not committing too early. Not committing because you’re scared of choosing. Or because you’ll be safe. Or because you’re bored or tired or its the first option that comes along. Or because other people think you should. Or because it’ll make you look good or instantly rich.

Love is not an escape from reality- it’s facing reality. – See more at: http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.1oslmWvc.KfBt1X6D.dpuf

Love is not an escape from reality- it’s facing reality. – See more at: http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.1oslmWvc.KfBt1X6D.dpuf

Commit because the deepest part of you has already said yes.

And the only part of you that says no is the scared part that thinks maybe you can’t do it. That maybe you’ll look a fool. Or maybe you’re not good enough.

Whether this is writing, or painting, or dance, or a man or a woman or a goddess. Commit. And show up. Day after day. And do your love work. Your service.

As the wonderful Glennon of Momastery writes: Love is not an escape from reality – it’s facing reality.

– See more at: http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.1oslmWvc.KfBt1X6D.dpuf

Love is not an escape from reality- it’s facing reality. – See more at: http://momastery.com/blog/#sthash.1oslmWvc.KfBt1X6D.dpuf

It won’t all be plain sailing, it never is, but in the act of commitment, you have made a pledge to not running when the going gets tough. Because as humans we need something to make us stay when the honeymoon is over… when we feel lost and scared and small and very alone. In our commitment – to our art, our families, partners, our god, that is what we do. Show up. In our vulnerabilities, willing to be forged into ourselves more deeply through relationship and co-creativity.